


No Sin

by RogueBelle



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Arthurian Mythology & Adaptations - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Rating: PG13, Sibling Incest, Wordcount: 500-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-04
Updated: 2011-05-04
Packaged: 2017-10-18 23:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueBelle/pseuds/RogueBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When one wishes to capitulate to the siren song of forbidden love, and the other resists with all her strength...</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Sin

"You have a wife." Morgan's voice echoes lowly off of the stark stone walls. "A queen."

Arthur's impossibly blue eyes are unflinching. "Do you think I don't know about her and Lance?" he counters, his own voice heated like a stoked ember, just before the point of flaring. "I _did_ that, Morgan, I created that, I pushed them into--"

"And what your knights," Morgan cuts him off, raising her voice above a hiss, "would have to say, what your vassal kings would have to say if they found out about that is nothing -- do you understand me, Arthur, _nothing_ \-- to what they would do if they found out about us." For a moment she looks to him tall, imposing, a goddess storming in front of the hearth. Then she looks down, the magnificent aura faltering, and seems smaller than ever, dark curls falling over the fragile contours of her face. "There is too much at stake, Arthur, too much to risk--"

He darts forward, every inch the Briton hero, golden in the firelight, and grasps her tiny hands in his large, sword-calloused ones. "I don't care, Morgan, I--"

"Don't care!" she exclaims, jerking back from him, pacing furiously. "How many battles have you fought, to win that crown upon your head? How many men have died to safeguard this realm under your rule? And you would dash it all upon the rocks! For what?" She whirls to face him, tears blurring at the corners of her eyes. "For me?" Something quivers in the flash of her throat, and uncertainty passes over her features. "No," she says, more softly, shaking her head, one hand clasped to her stomach, as though that might help allay the gnawing ache there. "No, Arthur. I will have no kingdoms falling in my name--"

But even this sticks in her throat, for as she presses her eyes shut tight, she sees a field strewn with bodies, reeking of horse and sweat and blood, rivers of it, staining crimson the should-be summer, and she knows, _knows_ , that her mistakes have wrought this...

 _'No,'_ she thinks, defiantly. _'I will fight it. I will not be the cause of it. I may yet avert that--'_

But Arthur's arms have fallen around her, a protective net, an enclosing barrier, her shelter and her prison. "Tell me you don't love me," he says, raising one hand to trail the rough pad of his thumb over her cheek. "Speak that truly, and I will never look at you again in anything but a purely sororal fashion."

Without opening her eyes, Morgan shakes her head. "You know I can't say that. Please don't ask me--"

" _You_ have always insisted that what we did at my kingmaking was no sin." His fingers catch under her chin, brush over her lips.

"We acted unknowing then, Arthur, in innocence, this is not--"

"Morgan." Arthur pulls her flush against him, her small, high breasts pressed to his firmly muscled chest. "I... I--"

But her eyes flutter open, and Arthur loses his eloquence in their stormy depths. "I am not Guenevere," she says, voice low as a wolf's growl. "I will not let you risk everything for me."

She slides out of his embrace as though no more than mist held her captive, and turns to stalk, even-paced, down the hallway, the edge of her midnight-blue gown fluttering over the moonlight-grey stones.


End file.
